


During Office Hours

by DrByron



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Analysis of their sexual and romantic dynamics, Established Relationship, Illicit affair, M/M, Office Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrByron/pseuds/DrByron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to make their relationship work, Blake keeps a detailed record on what seductive approach to choose under which circumstances -knowing fully well that his superior is everything but easy to please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	During Office Hours

During office hours, only quickies were allowed. They had a certain set of rules to define the nature of every meeting, a hypothetical flow chart to determine which positions, which timeframe, and which accessories were to be utilized. Mr Blake was the one keeping track of the rules and initiating the according scenario, whenever demanded or appropriate, but it was all based on his observations of Tassiter's preferences. Blake himself was actually very easy to please. Give him a person he loved (or at least somebody he had good chemistry with) and a moderately appropriate time, and he was happy. Even inappropriate timing was fine, just as long as the other person was also in an agreeable mood. And this is where the hypothetical flow chart came into play.

It was so easy to ruin Tassiter's mood that some would probably assume he just wasn't interested in sex as either a concept or an activity. He did have other priorities and could go without it, but he wasn’t actually opposed to it. In truth, he just had extremely specific needs that most failed to meet, especially given that he could be extremely vague about his desires. Not many had been allowed to even try, either. You had to either be a mind-reader or a genius-level observer, and luckily, the latter do exist. Jeffrey Blake prided himself on knowing the ins and outs of Hyperion's CEO Harold Tassiter, metaphorically and literally. And he never seemed to be able to complete his learning. If he had been any more demanding himself, or less apt at analyzing his partner, their relationship probably wouldn't have contained any sexual interaction at all. But when Blake really thought about it, that would've been perfectly fine with him too. He derived most of his pleasure from Harold's pleasure anyway, however subtle this may have showed in sexual or any other contexts.

Harold Tassiter was a constant challenge, a puzzle that changed itself with every new input, and while most would consider his behavior _‘complicated’_ , if not downright cruel, Blake found it immensely fascinating. He did find most people rather dull, as they adhered to rather simple rules and ethics, and he found himself drawn to those who dared to walk their own path and manage to surprise him. Also, reaching a goal with calculated words and actions meant all the more when his opposite was a tough case to solve.  
And while most would consider his means _'manipulative'_ , Harold appreciated Jeffrey for this the most, his masterful way with words and psychology, and how he knew exactly how to push the right buttons for both of their satisfaction. Whether it was in a professional or intimate situation.

During office hours, only quickies were allowed, and only when Harold was feeling especially stressed. The door had to be locked, the shutters let down, and Jeffrey would have to keep quiet. It was crucial to include that last prerequisite, especially, if not exclusively, for the Senior VP of Mercenary Relations and Tourism, Jeffrey Blake. Tassiter was never very vocal -even if they were in the privacy of either of their apartments, he'd only breathe and huff and let out an occasional gasp. Maybe a little growl if he wasn't satisfied with this or that. But Jeffrey though, if allowed, he would sigh and hum and coo in a way that made Harold wonder just how somebody could make so much noise and actually mean it. At first, he became suspicious of the delighted soundscape, assuming Blake was faking it, assuming Blake was making a show, assuming Blake was actually not enjoying any of what he did. Afraid Blake was, again, trying to reach something by employing some sneaky, dirty tactic –but he just couldn't tell what this goal could have possibly been. Tassiter knew he wasn't such a hot shot between the sheets, but Blake would always smile at him as if he'd fucked him right into heaven. It unnerved him. Blake would nuzzle his nose against his cheek, acting so 'in love', and it just unnerved him. It was too novelesque to be genuine, he’d thought. Only with time, the uneasiness subsided, and even though he still didn't know how much of it came instinctually, he settled on assuming that Blake used it to communicate that he was having a good time. And that things were fine between them.

During office hours, only quickies were allowed, and these either had to be non-penetrative or with Blake receiving. This wasn't about power. Blake was the only person Tassiter always met at proverbial eye-level, despite their professional hierarchy. This was about Tassiter's conflict of being both simultaneously impatient and in need of time. In order to get him to a point where he could enjoy any kind of penetration, lengthy foreplay and preparation was required. By the time he would have been ready, he would be so enraged by their 'waste of time' during hours they should have spent working, that he would slip into a fit of being angry at Blake, angry at himself, and just angry at everything. He was very trigger-happy to shoot the whole endeavour down.  
It wasn't as if Blake was trying to force anything gigantic into him, he was statistically average for somebody from his original homeworld (around 5 inches flaccid, around 5.5 erect), but Tassiter was just so damn sensitive. One little sting, and he'd call the whole deal off. He'd have to be really loose, slicked up and ready before anything goes in there, and the time given for a quickie was just barely enough to get him there, let alone actually get going.  
Blake, on the other hand, could take a lot. If needed, he could go without preparation and ease into it with the thrusts, he was, in that regard, very low-maintenance. Sometimes you had to take a pounding first, before things could become enjoyable -he lived by this wisdom. It was task enough to always wait for the right time to strike -he could at least control himself to be ready whenever he wanted. He also wasn't as perfectionistic about this as his partner was, he knew that sex was meant to be sloppy and awkward and imperfect at times. As long as both of them were comfortable, everything was okay. Tassiter though, whenever he was inclined to actually initiate their meeting, he put more effort into it than others would into a golden anniversary. He was not a very spontaneous man, but his exaggerated attempts at seduction charmed Blake all the more when they did happen.

Lying on the floor underneath Tassiter's desk, Blake cooed into Harold's ear, embracing him with one arm. The other, he used to hold his thigh against his upper body, positioned for easy reception. One pillow underneath his hips, one underneath his head, this was acceptable. This was not their default position, due to the obvious discomfort of the hard floor against their backs and knees, but he was willing to be fucked anywhere on the miraculous occasion of Harold being in the mood. The reason they were down there, Blake’s long legs crammed into the tight space, was Harold's paranoia that day. They had locked the door, made sure that nobody could look or walk inside -but the CEO couldn't shake the suspicion that somebody was going to kick the door in later. This wasn't entirely impossible, either. So they rather hid from plain sight, to get enough time to pull up their pants if somebody did decide to storm in. Blake wondered how emerging from under a desk, hair disheveled, the air oozing with sex, would make it any less obvious, but he played along and said nothing. They were almost fully dressed, too, sleeves rolled up and pants opened, with Blake's tugged down and hanging from his right ankle.  
Harold would later complain about his aching knees from kneeling on the hard floor too long, and Jeffrey fully knew. But this time, he just didn't feel like preventing the upcoming foul mood. He was low-maintenance, sure, but he had desires, too, and any words that could possibly make Harold stop now were temporarily erased from his vocabulary.

Whenever they did end up like this, it did help that Tassiter was around a whole inch shorter than him. Not in height, as that was more than an inch. Indeed, even with little preparation, Harold didn't carry enough of a gun to cause a lot of strain. Jeffrey had commented on it one time, only affectionately of course... but it has been one of the rare cases where he had entirely misjudged the effect of his words, and he never made the same mistake twice if he could avoid it. Thus they kept silent about the subject matter. He had nothing to complain about, anyway. The size and girth were enough to graze his prostate with very lucky strokes, and what else could you really want from a dick?

“Harry...” Jeffrey chuckled, his arms squeezing him closer. His sphincter squeezing the hardness moving inside him.  
“What did I say about laughing during... you know it's really confusing to me.” Harold mumbled into the crook of his neck, his metronomic movements faltering. “What's so funny now?”  
“Nothing, I'm just enjoying myself.” Blake hummed, breathing a kiss onto his forehead. “I just love you so dearly, Harry, and I just remembered again.”  
“...thank you.” Harold deadpanned, his narrow hips slowly coming to a halt. With a tired groan, he let himself fall on top of the other man. This gesture didn't offer enough weight to do the frustrating situation any real justice.  
“Great, I'm out of it. Just... forget it, we've been going at this long enough, anyway.”  
Jeffrey let go of his own leg and patted Harold's back where his shirt stuck to his skin in a cold damp patch. He checked his wristwatch. “We've been under here for 7 minutes and 20 seconds, 9:45 if you count the foreplay of us kissing on your chair.” He recalled factually. “You have a 30 minute morning break, if not longer. You can schedule your breaks whenever you want, after all...” He lazily grinded his hips down against the throbbing shaft still inside of him, hoping to entice him to continue. He drew out a long, seductive sigh, stretched his lanky body for Harold to admire, and gave him his best bedroom eyes. “You're in charge, you can have what you want, whenever you want...” He purred.  
“I want to...” Tassiter pulled out in one violent jerking motion, “...check the orders again.”  
Blake creased his brows and sighed again, this time in defeat. His completely fatless body was already starting to cool down and shiver slightly, and he wondered whether the airconditioning was set to 'icy' on purpose.  
“I get the feeling there is something fishy about today’s updates, I could have sworn some numbers just didn't add up.” Tassiter mumbled and pulled off the condom, making a neat knot in its open end (despite it being empty). They had been exclusive for a while now, albeit in secret, and regularly had their health checked by professionals. But Tassiter preferred to always use a condom for sanitary reasons -and because he was an absolute germaphobe as well. He didn't hate the creation of _'evidence'_ enough to overpower his hate of uncleanliness.

“Of course, Sir... should I fetch the documents from Acquisitions?” Blake snatched the condom from Tassiter's hand.  
“Yes, that would be great. But...” Harold squeezed his shoulder as he used him as he crutch to stand up, cracking the slightest hint of a smirk.  
“...pull up your pants before you go, will you?”  
Jeffrey laughed, and did as he was told. He knew Harold would caution him to do it in hiding, if he had gotten out from underneath the desk right away. So he went ahead and writhed and wiggled around in the position he was in. He pulled up his custom-fit pinstriped trousers in a few hops with his hips raised -much like others would need to squeeze into a pair of tight jeans.

As they stood upright again, Tassiter smoothed out the wrinkles of his shirt first, and the ones in his pants second. With parallel, well-coordinated pats, he aimed to erase all traces of dust that he assumed to see (even though his office was, as always, ridiculously clean). Blake only took care of the General impression and left it at that. He straightened his tie, but his eyes appreciatively wandered to look at his boss's crotch.  
“Just tell me if you change your mind later...” He playfully patted the bulge in the front of Tassiter's slacks. A bold move, but nothing that hadn’t worked before.  
His superior immediately grabbed his wrist. “Friday.”  
Jeffrey blinked in astonishment, as so few, so very few people managed to surprise him. But this, he didn't see coming.  
“Friday?” He inquired.  
“I booked a table at the _'_ En Plein Air' for Friday at nine.” Harold began. “And I know that you have no appointments then. No... professional appointments, in any case.” As there was no immediate reply other than speechless blinking, he began to rub the bridge of his nose, his hand sliding to cover his eyes. “Just... cancel whatever you wanted to do, please. Just... treat this as an important meeting, because it... it is.”  
“You took the evening off for a romantic dinner for the two of us?” Jeffrey cocked his head smiling, trying to catch a glimpse of Harold's eyes hidden behind his fingers. Most would consider Harold _‘complicated’_ , but underneath his harsh, disciplined demeanour, he could be really sweet to the ones he let close -in his own, special way. Not to mention that he was a hopelessly traditional romantic.  
“Dinner. It's... we've been there before. The rooftop restaurant with the transparent polymer glass dome. You remember the oysters.” Harold mumbled, giving him an unyielding glare that would have seemed intimidating, if Jeffrey didn't know beforehand that this was him being shy.  
“I remember the stars, and the oysters.” He nodded.  
“Good. They're an aphrodisiac.” Harold frowned.  
“I know, you've told me last time. And I told you that I already knew.” Jeffrey's voice was calm and soothing, but Harold had a talent to ignore the tone of a statement, taking the bare content at face value. This mostly applied to social, non-professional interaction and jokes -he was usually rather brilliant at seeing through people's lies and pretenses. This is why he usually preferred to keep the professional element of his life at a maximum, while his personal time was currently restricted to his time with Blake –he felt much more at ease at work than at play.  
Tassiter slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, Blake was right in front of him, gently squeezing his shoulder.  
“...am I predictable?” Tassiter asked.

Blake thought about the step-by-step plan that Tassiter had already laid out in mind and on paper. Possibly with attached materials. He would begin the date by only ordering the dishes that books and the echonet would define as erotic, not allowing Jeffrey to place an order himself. He would pay the pianist to play a highly specific 1 hours 45 minutes arrangement, aimed to get every listener into a romantic mindset. This was supposed to be for Jeffrey, the perfect date, but in truth, Harold needed this routine for himself. After 1 hour 25 minutes, at the end of song number eight, they would make preparations to leave. They would take a little walk along a pre-determined route, designed to be visually enticing and atmospheric. Harold's home would be even tidier than usual, and there would be champagne and strawberries and the whole clichéd deal waiting by the couch. Harold wouldn't actually drink much, as he couldn't handle his alcohol at all, this was all about the atmosphere of the moment. Sometimes Blake would down the whole bottle by himself, because a soft bubbly like this went down like water for him.  
At around midnight, after hours of impressionist era classical music, smooth or nu jazz and good conversation, they would start to relax enough to move their evening to the bedroom. You could set your watch to it.  
During nights like these, Tassiter would take all the time in the world. And he would let Blake take charge as he saw fit. He would allow himself to be treated well for hours on end –and this was something Blake excelled at. Sometimes, his efficiency-addicted superior would still get impatient, but on those occasions, he wouldn't be the one to decide. This was Blake’s time to lead, and he had to make it count. Tassiter simply had it coming. He shouldn't be surprised that with all the quickies and interrupted flings, Jeffrey would seize the rare opportunity to deny him his orgasm for long, agonizing hours and drag it out as much as a body and mind could possibly endure. This was the only way to seduce any sounds from Harold, too. If Jeffrey felt especially cheeky, he could easily make his partner whine and moan and despair at his skilled hands (and his other body parts too). One of his favorite achievements was when Harold would aggressively yell his demands at him, too greedy to retain any of his usual self-control. Another favorite was Harold grumbling heated little somethings into the softness of a pillow, only interrupted by his own surprised hiccups. Nobody had ever seen these sides of him, except for Blake, and it was good that way. Some would consider his actions being _‘mean’_ or a _‘tease’_ , considering how far Jeffrey took it sometimes. But Harold actually adored every single minute of it, and surrendered himself willingly. He would refuse to admit it or explicitly ask for more (he was a disaster in regards to verbalizing his wishes, after all), but this was one of the almost impossible instances where Harold Tassiter had actually learned to enjoy something _'unproductive'_ for its own sake. And this was, by far, something Jeffrey Blake considered one of his greatest achievements.

“Jeff, be honest with me, have I become _predictable_?” Tassiter repeated more urgently.  
“Only when you worry too much, dear...” Blake placed a soft kiss on his lips, gave him a cool but disarming smile, and turned to get back to work. From the twitch of Tassiter’s lips as their mouths met, he knew that he was as excited about the _‘business dinner’_ as he was. And in order to secure that nobody would get wind of their illicit affair, he casually ditched the used condom out an airlock on the way to Acquisitions.


End file.
